A Savior's Complexities
by Agastopic
Summary: The triumphs, tragedies, and descent into madness of one of Tamriel's greatest heroes as told by the the most absent-minded Wood Elf ever birthed into Mundus. The narrator will provide comic relief while the content of future events will be rather angsty, or so I hope. I'm mainly trying to work on characterization and portraying emotion, so reviews are highly appreciated.


Chapter 1: An Introduction

All have it within, a force that compels us to redeem others and save the world. Even in the most selfish and evil souls this desire can be found. The coin-lusting Thieves Guild has a reputation to redeem, and the supremacist Thalmor do view themselves as the saviors of mer. See? It's in all of us. Nature had made it so.

This nature, bountiful but unequal in distribution...is...

Well, I had words, but it seems I've lost them. I'll get back to that later. I...Uh-oh, the Dragonborn said third person was highly recommended. There's already second and first person written, but wiping away charcoal is extremely unsightly. I guess I'll just deal with it and think more slowly. What to do?

Ah, right! I should write my name down somewhere before I forget. Wylandriah. When old age strikes and I become exponentially more disorganized because of it, I'd rather not forget that I wrote these slips of paper. An optimism within me and most of my other Bosmer kinsmen tells me these papers will possibly have importance one day. Another helpful reminder and the reason of the papers' possible future importance: these papers concern the Dragonborn, who has decided to personally relate to me the events of her adventures.

She has a residence in Riften to which she returns every month or so, allowing me regular access to her for the writings. These documents will benefit both of us. For the Dragonborn, her history (Tamriel's history, really) will be ensured accurate recordings from a trusted individual, and for me, I get practice in organization directed by someone who could shout me into the depths of Lake Honrich, not to mention possible profit for my recordkeeping in years to come. As long as I keep the pages safe, in the right place, and in order, my physical and financial well-being is ensured.

Now, what was I writing about? Oh, yes, nature and mental forces. Nature is bountiful but unequal in distribution, evidenced both externally and internally. Compare the Alik'r Desert to the forests of Valenwood. Such inequity also applies to the inner workings of the mind. The desire to perform salvation manifests itself in different intensities depending on the individual. There are a number of conditions, complexes, and desires I could expound on, but for organization's sake I will focus just on the Dragonborn's savior complex. She is not mad with it. Currently, anyway. At this point in time, it does not create an obsession within her, as it does in some. Luckily, if there is anyone that can without a doubt believe their power can save others, it might as well be a prophesied hero. Her memoirs in relation to this complex will be lengthy, as her entire existence while she is in the Province of Skyrim is devoted to removing the threat of dragons. And the other endeavors she takes on. Whatever she does, I am eager to record it...after a long day's work of experimenting.

Exactly why am I even bothering with the mental aspects of this heroine? Most historians record events, but very few can get inside the heads of those who actually participated in them. This leaves opinions and attitudes lost to time, making for many inaccuracies. As a wizard and intellectual, I do not want inaccurancies about an already almost mythical individual, especially now that Skyrim is in civil war. If she chooses to participate, the belligerent factions may skew recordings of her in or out of their favor. Disorganized as I may be, my soul, heart, and most importantly my mind, are neutral. I am no child of the Empire; any rational mind can sense that it is crumbling. The local Nords, especially Stormcloaks, think most elves want to "cross" them, even elves like myself who have long been in this province. Lastly, the Thalmor have committed crimes against my people. In all honesty, I am glad my studies in magic keep me away from all the politics. They serve as my excuse for not aligning myself with one of three bad sides. Research is my most important pursuit, and no politics will get in the way of it.

That should be enough credibility on my part, hopefully.

As for the Dragonborn, now begin my writings of her. Background history to start off.

Unexpectedly, she is what they call here a "provincial." Use of the word "unexpectedly" stems from the sentiments of the locals, not my own. People expected a Nord hero for a Nord legend, especially with the current separatist vibe in certain regions of Skyrim. The Nords didn't just see a struggle of men versus mer as they did for most of history. It seems even other humans were out of their favor as of now, Imperials for surrendering Talos worship and some Bretons for suspicion of being a Forsworn.

The Dragonborn was of Breton ancestry and even bore a name derived from High Rock's most famous structure. Her biological parents are not known, but she was abandoned and found inside Direnni Tower. Feeling inspired, her adoptive parents bestowed upon her the name "Dirienne." Her name fitted her quite well, and not only because of where she was found.

A name drawn from the oldest structure in Tamriel went especially well with the face of a Breton who had First Era features. Nowadays, Bretons look undoubtedly human. Dirienne, on the other hand, had very slanted eyes, high cheekbones, a long nose, and a long and pointed chin, not unlike a mer woman. The slant in her eyes was accentuated by eyeliner and warpaint, making her appear many degrees more elven from a distance. What made her human in looks was her fair, pink-undertoned skin, short stature, bright blue irises, and of course, the rounded ears. However, I must say that on any given day where those ears were cloaked with a hood whilst she sat down and let her anterior face a fire, sharing its golden hue, she might as well call herself an Altmer. A good-looking one, too. Many describe the First Era 'Manmer' to be awkward in appearance, but Dirienne's distictly hybrid features brought her the interested glances of many men and mer...and their lust, as one would imagine.

She was not always aware of her own beauty, but others usually were and wanted to use it to their advantage. Her adoptive parents had business dealings in Skyrim. Normally, they only sold the weapons they forged, but they received quite an interesting offer from the Forsworn. Probably one of their business associates in the area was involved with the rebels and told them about their child. About twenty years ago, during the two years the Reachmen had free reign in Northwestern Skyrim, the Forsworn wanted to make her the poster child of the Reachmen's Independence. Dirienne's face was to be pictured in artwork on handouts, and she was to take a seat by Madanach himself when he addressed his people. An old face to represent the old ways, a child to represent the rebirth of freedom. But the request had been made too late. Madanach was captured, and her parents fled the Reach back to High Rock for safety reasons. Nothing was published, and no little girl got to sit with the King in Rags.

Now Dirienne is fully grown and a pathway to fame presented itself for the second time in her life. How she ended up in Skyrim again, she has not gotten the chance to tell me. I suppose that will start the next section along with the psychological delvings.

Writing all of this is quite relaxing, really. Although I find myself conveying ideas in a much lower register when talking about things other than magic, at least I am able to somewhat keep my thoughts together for...roughly a thousand words. Did I really just waste all that time counting?

If the Dragonborn asks about the third person thing, maybe it could be said that using first person instead of third would make me appear closer to the heroine and therefore a more trustworthy source.

Yeah, that sounded good enough. Goodness, I'm sleepy.

Damn, I wasn't supposed to write that last sentence. Or this one! The last two paragraphs are just my ramblings! Oh, gods! Yffre! I—oh well, I guess can make edits later...


End file.
